Betrayed
by KhaleesiEatTheRude
Summary: Will feels betrayed because Hannibal framed him. What he doesn't know is that he betrayed Hannibal long ago, in another world, in another life...Mild slash - Hannigram, Tristan/Galahad


I know that many people have played with this idea. I decided to give it a shot myself. I actually got the idea from the story "Remember" by HyphenL on AO3.

The lovely cover is made by libertinian on tumblr.

This story is unbeta'd and English is not my native language, so there might be few mistakes.

I don't own King Arthur, Hannibal, Mads Mikkelsen, or Hugh Dancy. But a girl can still dream...

* * *

A falcon. A longing. A sense of loss.

They never go away. They follow Will Graham everywhere, although he has no idea why.

Why would he dream of a quiet falcon roaming the blue skies?

Why would he feel that he has lost someone long ago?

The door opens. Will hears footsteps but does not move. It's probably the guards. Who would visit him? Jack? Apparently he doesn't want to be near the supposed Chesapeake Ripper. Alana? It breaks her heart to see him behind bars. Hannibal? Ah, Hannibal. He visited him once, to admire what he has achieved, to glory in his triumph.

"Good morning, Will."

Will stays still on the bed, but he turns his head in order to look at his visitor. "Good morning, doctor Lecter."

They look straight at each other's eyes - now that Will has seen who Hannibal truly sees, eye contact is easier than ever. Hannibal smirks smugly. Hasn't the one visit been enough? Hasn't he seen Will suffer enough already?

Although Will manages to hide it, he is angry. Not only because Hannibal takes pleasure in his pain and suffering, but also because Will still finds himself fascinated by that monster's eyes. They are two beautiful gems of a treasure that Will has buried in a place unknown even to him.

"Why?" Will asks all of a sudden.

The smirk on Hannibal's face only widens. Will can't take more of his mockery. "Can't I visit my favourite patient?"

Will wants to throw himself at the doctor, to strangle him, to feel his pulse weaken under his hands, to see the smile fade from his face and all life leave his eyes. However, deep down he knows that he will regret it. And that angers him even more.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"No, that's not what you meant. Then to which 'why' are you referring, dear Will?"

"Why did you frame me? Why _me_? I've seen your work, filled with grace and elegance. You try to reach perfection. So why did you frame _me_ and not someone else? What have I done to you to deserve your scorn, your hatred?"

Hannibal's smile drops slightly, but Will doesn't feel happy about it. It saddens him, and not because of his empathy.

"You don't remember," Hannibal whispers.

"What I've done to you? No, of course I don't remember! Would I be asking you if I did?" Will pauses, taking a deep breath before his rage overwhelms him. "Why do you kill? Not for power obviously, you don't need that. What is it? Boredom? Fun? Pleasure?"

"You seem repulsed by the idea," Hannibal observes, "yet you killed Garret Jacob Hobbs."

"That's different," Will answers immediately. "I didn't like it. I would never kill for pleasure."

"Unlike some?" Hannibal teases him. "You should. You might get a taste for it."

Will stares at Hannibal. For some strange reason, unbeknownst even to himself, he feels that he has had that conversation before. But...Hannibal has never said those things to him before, he knows it deep in his bones.

Will tries to change the subject and return to his initial question. "I thought we were friends."

"So did I."

Hannibal seems so bitter now. The smile has completely melted off of his face.

"Do you always frame friends?" Will asks.

"Do you always forget friends?" Hannibal throws back at him.

Will blinks. "I...I don't understand."

"You forgot."

Forgot? Forgot what?

Hannibal lowers his head as he doesn't get an answer. And then he begins to sing.

Will blinks again. Hannibal is perfectly in tune, and the song is more than pleasant to the ears. His soft, low voice is like a lover's caress.

"Land of freedom, land of heroes

Land that gave us hope and memories;

Hear our singing, hear our longing

We will go home across the mountains..."

The song is nostalgic and sad. It hurts Will to hear it. Somehow, he can feel the song. He can feel...He can't even explain it.

And he gets that feeling again. The feeling that he has heard this song before. Perhaps even sung it himself.

He feels the loss again, hurting him physically now. "Stop that!" he gasps.

Hannibal does. Will looks at him and sees the bird. It is too much. It hurts too much. He almost falls to his knees. He trembles. He is afraid that he will have another seizure.

Hannibal is perfectly collected, as always. "I have always remembered," he says simply. "Since the day we met in Jack's office I have known who you are."

Will pierces him with eyes that cut like knife. "I don't want you to tell me who I am, doctor Lecter. You've done that much already, thank you very much."

"You still don't remember, do you?" Hannibal turns from bitter to annoyed. "I waited for you. For centuries I have delayed the freeing of my spirit because I always waited for you. But you...you stay here. I don't know what keeps you here. I can't possibly understand it."

"And I can't understand what you're talking about." Freeing of the spirit? Is the doctor the one who is insane after all?

"We were knights," Hannibal goes on. "Proud, fearless, united. We rode our slender horses and charged into battle."

"You are delusional," Will announces. "And I won't let you play with my mind again. No, that's over. The game is over, doctor Lecter. I won't believe your lies; especially lies such as the ones you're throwing at me now."

"I had a bird. A brown falcon. Do you remember that? Do you remember our friends? Lancelot-"

"Wait, wait, wait." This is getting more ridiculous by the second. "You mean...the Knight of the Round Table?"

"Yes."

Will chuckles. And yet..._he had a bird. The bird in my dreams...No, don't go there, Will. Don't let him drive you insane._

"And who were you? Arthur?"

"Tristan from Eastern Europe, fighting beside Arthurius and our other companions until my death."

"I see. And what about the others? Where are my knights in shining armour? Is Jack one of them? Or maybe Alana?"

Instead of being angry, Hannibal is bitter again. Will has never seen him like this before. He looks so broken.

"All gone," the doctor replies. "All free. I was the only one who stayed here...waiting."

Can loneliness be Hannibal's weakness? Can Will use that in his favour?

He rubs his head, but he can't just rub the song off. It's there, imprinted in his mind now.

"You're not alone," he says.

"I am," Hannibal says. "You don't remember."

It's time for Will to play his game. Anything to get out of this hell.

"Maybe...maybe I do. A little bit."

"You won't fool me. I have spent a lot of time playing around with people's minds; you have only just begun. You can't fool me. No one can."

"You never told me why you kill. Is it because you killed when you were a...knight?"

"I do enjoy an artful kill," Hannibal admits. "But that's not the only reason. You would not accept your death, so I...grew bored and decided to be reincarnated like you."

"You kill to help me remember?"

"Partly, yes."

Will doesn't know what to do. Should he laugh? Should he scream? Should he call for the guards and ask Chilton to not let Hannibal Lecter visit him ever again?

His psychiatrist, his rock, his friend...is insane. Why has he not noticed? How could he not have seen?

"Okay," he says slowly. "And who was I?"

Hannibal gives him a long, unreadable look before he answers. "You were Galahad, the youngest of us all. You had brown curls and bright blue eyes, a beard, and a smile was never far from your face."

There is a touch of nostalgia in Hannibal's voice as he speaks these things, so Will forces himself to truly look at him.

He doesn't look like Hannibal. His hair is longer, darker, messy, with a bang falling on his forehead and a braid on one side. He also has a beard.

Will shakes his head. He is still sick. He doesn't know what illness he is suffering from, but it is the only explanation.

He doesn't want to take Hannibal seriously. He shouldn't. He knows that he shouldn't. And yet...Hannibal looks so human now. Will has nothing to lose anymore. He might actually gain something if he plays the game right. He might gain his freedom.

He looks at the man before him again, focusing on specific parts of his face.

First come the eyes. The colour is the same as always, but now they feel more piercing. There is no icy politeness there now. His eyes are very much alive. They are able to find the falcon in the sky even if it looks like a mere dot amongst the clouds to anyone else. They are able to guide an arrow unbelievably far. They are able to guide a knife straight at the centre of its target.

The lips follow. They are the same too, but Will feels that he has seen it more times than he actually has. He has imagined how they would feel on his own lips.

_Stop_, he tells himself. He doesn't know if this is Will's desire for Hannibal or Galahad's desire for Tristan. _No, there is no Galahad, no Tristan. My name is Will Graham. I am in the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane. I have no idea what time it is._

"If you are truly Tristan, then prove it," Will says. "Tell me something personal, something that only the knights would know."

Hannibal nods. "One night we were drinking all together. You threw a dagger to the target. You did well. Then I threw my dagger..."

"...and it stuck in the hilt of mine. You just couldn't let me feel a bit proud of myself for once," Will completes the sentence. He feels the corners of his mouth pull up.

He slides an arm through the bars to stroke the older man's jaw with trembling fingers. The older man closes his eyes. Will doesn't feel a beard, yet when the man before him opens his eyes he can't deny it. The eyes are the same.

But now there is no warmth in them.

"Why did you frame me?" Will asks again.

"You don't remember."

Will can't let go of that hallucinated face. "I remember..." Is he losing his mind again?

"Prove it."

A part of Will wants to let go and get lost in the shadows of his cell. However, his hand moves and his fingers run through Hannibal's fingers.

"Once you spilled water all over a man who was sleeping in the mud with the pigs. He was so drunk that he thought you were some god who wanted to cleanse him." He has no idea where that came from.

Hannibal grips Will's wrists in order to get them off him, but Will only tightens his own grip on Hannibal's hair. No, on _Tristan_'s hair.

"Why didn't you remember before?" Hannibal asks.

"You're alive!"

"I'm not. Neither are you."

"No, stop that. You're here. You're talking to me. You feel so real under my hands."

Harshly Hannibal - Tristan - gets Will's - Galahad's - hands off him. "No, I am just a parasite," he snaps at him. "Was I so easy to forget?"

"I didn't mean to. I didn't know who I was. You told me that I couldn't accept my death-"

"No, no, no. Your lives went on."

"That's life, Trist -Hannibal. You and Lancelot fought valiantly, and we were all sorry that we lost two great warriors and friends, but life goes on."

"Yes, yes...When I met you in Jack Crawford's office, I remembered."

"But I did not."

"No. No, you didn't." Hannibal looks hurt, almost regretful.

Will is afraid that the sense of guilt will drown him.

"I hurt you."

"No, I am not hurt." His voice is calm, but Will can feel the wave of rage coming closer and closer. "I am betrayed.

"Do you remember a white stag? You all saw it and never loosed an arrow to it."

Will nods. "We had this feeling that it was protecting us."

"It was Lancelot. He stayed to protect you. I stayed as a falcon. I could fly wherever I wanted, I could be free. Yet I stayed and followed you, guarding you from the sky. I came to you at times. Everyone saw me. I don't think they cared. But they saw me. You never did."

Will remembers everything now. He has often felt a presence as Galahad. The falcon? Tristan? For true?

"I...I'm sorry." He knows that these words won't help at all, but he feels that he has to speak them.

Once again he slides his arm through the bars of his cell and takes the older man's hand in his own. Their eyes lock, and he sees. He truly sees. They are not Hannibal and Will anymore. No, they are Tristan and Galahad. He sees all the looks tha Tristan has given him. He remembers that Tristan has never been a man of many words. He remembers that Tristan has never interrupted, never tried to draw his attention. And yet, there have been gestures of attention and and moments of true friendship.

He understands now. He understands why he has been feeling that pain. He understands why he has had that feeling of great loss. Tristan. He remembers holding his dead body. He remembers putting it into the cold grave. He remembers his tears.

And he remembers Tristan laughing at him, mocking him. He would always find his eyes then and look at him in a way...in a way that suggested...

Oh god...

"I'm sorry," Galahad/Will says again. "I didn't know."

The man before him doesn't look at him through dishevelled hair, yet there is no doubt. This is Tristan. "Now you know. You know what it's like to be betrayed by your own, by your friend...by someone you love."

What can he say? _I mourned, I cried for you_? _I thought that by denying your death the pain would be less_? Each sounds pathetic.

Tristan/Hannibal gives him a long, hard and cold look. But above all, he seems wounded.

"Goodbye, Will," he whispers.

"No, no, no!" He kisses the hand he is holding, but Tristan/Hannibal pulls it back.

Will tries to fight the tears threatening to fall. "Please, Hannibal, don't leave me! I didn't know! Tristan, I didn't know! Please! Please, I need you!"

Hannibal - no, Tristan - doesn't even turn back to look at him. He just leaves, his footsteps sounding distant and then more distant...until the door closes and Will/Galahad is left alone in total silence.

He can't control his tears anymore. The silence breaks by his sobs, but no one can hear them.

* * *

I'm extra nervous about this story...Like, really.

Reviews are love!


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